Frozen Moments
by HarmonyPie714
Summary: A collection of one-shots, some funny, some somber, some both. Chapter Three: Forever Loyal - An unusual perspective on the Battle of Hogwarts.
1. Lunar Light

**A/N: This is set near the start of fifth-year, probably early October. Also, I own nothing whatsoever. Enjoy.**

Harry rolled over in his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He couldn't sleep. Letting out a soft sigh, he rolled out of bed quietly, grabbing his invisibility cloak.

His nightmares were back, in glorious colour and surround sound. The ending never changed; every time he saw Cedric die the same way, the spark of life leaving his eyes at the same moment, his body hitting the ground with the same awful finality.

Each time he relived the memory, he felt more and more responsible. He should have been able to do something to save Cedric. If he had seen Wormtail coming, and hexed him before he had the time to cast a spell, Cedric would still be alive. If he had realized what was going on earlier, he could have summoned the cup, and they could have escaped before Wormtail even approached. There was so much he could have done, so much he should have done, and Cedric was dead because of his failure.

He had to walk. He made his way down quietly to the common-room, stopping there to look at the clock. 2 a.m. He squeezed his way through the portrait hole and out into the corridor, ignoring the Fat Lady's protests. He began to walk down the hallway, not really sure where he was going, just needing to get some air, to rid his head of the thoughts that dominated both his waking and dreaming lives.

He walked past a window and was nearly blinded by the cold light of the full moon streaming through it, his eyes struggling to adjust. Then he passed the window, and was cast back into the relative darkness of the candle-lit castle.

The moon seemed to be particularly bright tonight, and Harry felt a twinge of sympathy for Professor Lupin, who was no doubt struggling to sleep as well.

Harry found himself walking towards the Astronomy Tower. He climbed up the steps to the observatory platform, figuring it was as good a place as any to collect his thoughts.

He leaned against the railing of the circular platform, looking up at the night sky. It was brighter than Harry had seen it anywhere else in the world; there was virtually no light pollution near Hogwarts, and he could see thousands upon thousands of stars. He saw a couple of constellations that he remembered from Astronomy, clearer than he had ever seen them before. It was an extraordinary night.

But looking at the beauty of the night sky, the peacefulness and tranquility that the night brought surrounding him, he felt a surge of anger. All of this peace was going to be shattered. Voldemort was back, and there was going to be a war. But nobody in the Ministry, nobody who had the resources to stop Voldemort from gaining power, from recruiting more and more Death Eaters, would even acknowledge his return.

One innocent had already died that Harry knew of, and he was sure there were many more. How many ended lives, how many shattered futures would it take before the Ministry would value saving lives over saving face? What would it take for somebody besides Dumbledore to stand up and take responsibility for weathering the coming storm? Because if that moment didn't come soon, Voldemort might not meet much resistance.

Harry heard footsteps approaching from below. They sounded very light, as if their owner was trying not to be heard. Harry double-checked that the cloak was covering him completely, before turning his back to the stairs and continuing to gaze out at the sky. He didn't really care who it was; they wouldn't be able to see him, and he wasn't in the mood to talk anyway.

A few moments later the footsteps stopped, their owner leaning against the railing right next to Harry. It was Luna. She was humming to herself, seemingly deep in her own private universe.

"It's a beautiful night, isn't it, Harry?"

Harry jumped, startled.

"You can see me?" he replied, suddenly worried that his cloak had stopped working.

She shook her head. "I could sense your feelings. Your anger in particular. You're the only person I know who can go invisible, so I figured it had to be you."

She said this very matter-of-factly, as if sensing emotions from seemingly empty surroundings was a common talent.

Harry took off the cloak, not wanting to be rude. "It is a nice night," he said, gazing out at the stars.

She looked at him, her distant gaze oddly piercing. "You don't really think so, do you?" she asked.

He didn't respond.

"You can't bottle your feelings up for ever, Harry. You have to let them out, or else they'll just keep building until they overpower you."

"I don't really want to talk about it," he said, truthfully, avoiding her gaze.

"Why not?"

"You wouldn't understand. It's not just you; nobody would."

She didn't respond, instead turning away to look at the stars. They stood there in silence for a minute, maybe longer, it was hard to tell.

"You see that?" she said, pointing out into the sky. "There, to the left of the Little Dipper. Those five stars."

He finally saw the constellation she was pointing at. It was one of the faintest in the sky, barely visible. If they hadn't been so far from the nearest city the constellation would have been completely drowned out by the artificial light.

"That's Columba," she said. "The Dove. It's a symbol of peace."

"It seems to be a long way off," Harry said grimly.

She shrugged. "Maybe. But if we can see it up there in the sky every night, is it really that far away from us?"

"I think war is a lot closer," Harry replied.

Luna nodded.

"It is." She paused for a moment. "Harry, you have to talk to somebody. It doesn't have to be me, but you can't go on carrying everything inside of you. I know what happens when you contain emotions."

She took a deep breath, her voice growing softer, more serious.

"They change; your sorrow becomes depression, and your anger becomes equal parts blame and guilt. I know you don't think anybody can understand, but you should know that you're not alone. You have friends who care for you. I know that Ron and Hermione have been worried about you for months. It hurts them when they see you like this."

"Please, Harry, for your sake and for theirs, don't try to take this all on yourself. Nothing good comes of taking responsibility for things you can't control."

She spoke quietly but uncharacteristically firmly, her words carrying the unfortunate weight of experience. Harry didn't know what she had been through, and he didn't want to ask, but he suddenly found himself feeling that maybe Luna would understand, that maybe she would be able to help.

So he talked. He told her about everything that had happened since June, the events of the final task, his awful summer, the Dementors and the hearing, and the return of his nightmares. She was the first person that he had told the whole story to- not just the facts, but what he had been feeling at the time, how scared he had been, and now how responsible he felt and how worried he was for the future.

She was a patient listener, not interrupting him with questions. There would have been nothing for her to ask him, anyway; he told her everything.

When he had finally finished, she gave him a slight smile.

"Better?" she asked lightly.

He did feel somewhat better, but he couldn't get rid of the image of Cedric, slumped on the ground, that kept appearing in his mind.

"You can't blame yourself, Harry," she said, as if she had read his thoughts. "You did everything you could."

"It wasn't enough."

She sighed, turning to look up at the sky, at the dove she had shown him earlier.

"I know."

She stared up at the dove for a while longer.

"Sometimes things just happen, though, and we can't control them. This was one of those things. You'll go crazy if you analyze everything, searching for what you could have done differently."

She didn't look at him when she spoke, and Harry wondered if she was even talking to him anymore. Regardless, she was probably right. Maybe he had to let Cedric go, maybe he had to accept that he had died and that there was nothing he could have done. He didn't think he could do that yet, it was too soon, but he was feeling a lot better. It was a start.

"You should get some sleep," she said, glancing over at him. "You look like you need it."

He nodded. "You should head back too. Why are you even up here, anyway?"

"I don't need much sleep," she replied. "Never have, really. Good night, Harry."

"Good night, Luna."

It was only as Harry was climbing back up the stairs to his dormitory that he realized she hadn't answered his question.

* * *

><p>Luna was looking up at the dove, watching as it moved, ever so slowly, down towards the brightening horizon.<p>

"I'm sorry, Mom," she whispered to the sky.

She knew she shouldn't blame herself. She apologized anyway.

She stayed there until the sun rose.


	2. The Challenge

**A/N: I wrote this in half an hour to prove to myself that I could, so it's probably not my best work, but I hope you enjoy it. Also, I know it's not technically H/Hr, but later stuff in this collection will be.**

She hadn't even raised her wand and Harry was already regretting his decision. Not that he had willingly brought this upon himself; he had just been trying to correct her pronunciation of the Reductor curse when she had snapped at him. Before he had known what was happening she had challenged him to a duel. He had stammered a reflexive yes, not even thinking about what he was doing.

So that was why they were standing at opposite sides of the Room of Requirement, their wands at the ready, waiting for Ron's signal to begin. The rest of the D.A. was pressed against the walls, as far back as they could get from the line of fire.

"You sure you want to do this?" Harry asked her, trying not to sound nervous. "I'm sure we could find another way to resolve-"

"Yes, I'm sure!" she interrupted, clearly impatient. "You think I don't know how to pronounce a simple incantation, so I'm going to use it to blast you into ash."

"Er.. take it easy with the blasting, Hermione," Ron said meekly from his spot by the wall. "No spells that'll land either of you in the Hospital Wing - we can't have Madam Pomfrey asking questions."

"Fine," she said loudly, the tip of her wand actually quivering with anger. "Now can we get this bloody thing started already?"

"We'll do it on three," Ron replied, shooting Harry a sympathetic glance before he started to count. "One, two, three."

"Protego!" Harry shouted immediately, sure that Hermione would go on the attack first.

"Rictusempra," she yelled a moment later, the tickling charm deflecting off of the shield and hitting Colin Creevey, who collapsed in a fit of laughter.

Harry stayed behind his shield, reluctant to cast anything offensive. He didn't want to take the chance of hurting her, and if he just let her get her anger out maybe she'd call it all off.

Hermione took three quick steps to the left, trying to get an angle around Harry's shield.

Harry ducked, narrowly avoiding a stunner. This wouldn't work. He was a sitting duck if he just stood here. He had to end this before he got hurt, or worse, publicly humiliated.

So he did just about the stupidest thing he could have done while in a duel with an opponent who was out for his blood. He charged at her.

"Impedimenta!" she cast, but he was ready, stepping out of the path of the jinx.

She raised her wand to cast another spell while he was still half the room away from her, and he realized that he had to close the distance quicker; he didn't like his chances of dodging any more spells.

So he did something even more stupid than his initial charge.

"Accio Hermione!"

She was lighter than him, and so she flew through the air towards him, a look of shock on her face, her spell forgotten. Harry didn't think to stop running, and so the consequence was that she crashed into him at full speed, knocking them both to the floor, dazed.

There was a muffled laugh from somewhere to Harry's right, but his brain was too busy making sure he was in one piece to identify it. Then he remembered that the duel wasn't yet over. He forced himself up onto his elbows, his wand still gripped tightly in his right hand, and pointed it at Hermione, who was no more than two feet from him and beginning to rise herself.

"Expelliarmus," he said quietly. Her wand slipped out of her hand and into his.

She looked at him with a mix of admiration and annoyance.

"That was rather brilliant," she said, her earlier anger gone. "The Summoning Charm, I mean. But it still doesn't mean you're right about the pronunciation."

"Was it really worth duelling me over?" he asked, slowly standing up.

"Probably not," she shrugged. "I just wanted to put some of those spells you've been teaching us into practice. And what better way to do that than a duel?"

Harry sighed. He really didn't understand her sometimes.

"If I have a headache tomorrow I'm blaming you, by the way," she said, winking at him.

He frowned. She inclined her head slightly to the left. Harry glanced over at the direction she was indicating. Cho was standing there, staring at him and looking extremely impressed. Suddenly it all made sense.

"Thanks," he mouthed to Hermione.

She smiled.


	3. Forever Loyal

**A/N:** **It has been a while, hasn't it... hopefully I'll be able to get some more of these out soon. Enjoy.**

Helga Hufflepuff watched with disdain as Voldemort's forces charged. Brutes. Most of them fought out of fear, and the rest to satisfy their bloodlust. Not a scrap of true loyalty to be found. But whatever their motivation, they posed an enormous threat to her, one that she was powerless to resist. The wards around her had fallen, broken by the twisted power of the Elder Wand, and now all that stood between her and them were her children. Oh, they were brave and wise and cunning, and their loyalty was unmatched by any, but she feared that this was a battle they would not win.

She wondered what exactly would happen to her if the invaders were victorious. Not much, probably. She would be left untouched, perhaps the single most significant symbol of Voldemort's new reign. She would continue to harbor students, only, as had happened this year, they would be taught to destroy, not to preserve. She would continue to be powerless to guide them, as she had been for the last thousand-odd years.

The charm hadn't done was much as she had hoped. Yes, it had worked, her consciousness had been transferred, but she was not in control. She would have done more research, but her time had been running out, and she couldn't have risked putting it off any longer. So now she was a weak goddess, a bystander really, all-seeing and all-knowing but condemned to do nothing but watch when the sky fell.

He didn't realize how torturous it was, living forever, or he wouldn't seek it. She didn't regret her choice, but she suffered during times like this, when her impotence was most costly. Watching Dumbledore die, seeing the Carrows torture those who would not perform the curse themselves, it nearly broke her.

She wasn't really immortal. If the castle was destroyed, in all likelihood she would be too. Or maybe she would live on in the rubble, her soul forever bound to any scrap of the school that remained. She wasn't eager to find out, so she willed her children her loyalty and her faith, her determination and her pride.

Each of the founders had left something with the school, something that would last beyond their mortal lives. Gryffindor had left his sword, for the bravest to wield. Slytherin left behind his secret chamber and the monster within, in the hope that his heir would finish his despicable work. Ravenclaw, always having to show up the others, left both her diadem and her daughter, two treasures of wisdom.

Hufflepuff had left her soul. She could only hope that it would prove to be enough.


End file.
